


Don't Stop Believing

by Titti



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 13:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13412616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: Returning to Oz leaves Miguel and Ryan searching for something.  When it looks hopeless, they find that something in each other.





	Don't Stop Believing

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Written for Wish #15 - Keyword/Prompt Phrase: "Paying anything to roll the dice, just one more time."  
> 2\. If you're new to the Oz fandom, insults based on race, religion and sexual orientation are part of their vocabulary and included in the story. If this bothers you, please don't read.  
> 3\. The title is shamelessly taken from Journey.

It'd been a year since those buses had transported the population of Oz out of its walls. The prisoners had been spread across the Northeast and since they were valuable commodities, no one had been in a rush to clean up Oz and lose the millions of dollars that came with dangerous convicts who'd probably never leave those walls. Querns and McManus had fought long and hard to get their prison back and they had finally won.

Rows of buses arrived. Staff filled the empty rooms. Prisoners were processes and put in the right blocks and cells. Miguel… well, he did not give a shit about any of that. If life had been hard in Oz, it'd been absolutely brutal after the transfer. Drugs had been his only respite.

He was straight. He wasn't anyone's bitch. Until things changed.

Attica had made Oz look like Disneyland. Overcrowded and filled with the worst of the worst, it destroyed even the toughest men. Miguel had stopped being tough with those little green pills that Torquemada had fed him. There was never any hope for him to stay safe in his new jail. Instead, he let the drugs dull the pain, physical and mental, until coke was his faithful lover and now he'd have to see who could provide in Oz.

"Well, shit, if it ain't Miguel Alvarez," Ryan said when he watched the other man enter his cell. "Didn't think you'd survive."

"Shows what you know, hermano." Miguel put his things on the lower bunk. He needed to be out of here, needed to find who was supplying, needed- He couldn't think, he was sweaty and jumpy. It'd been too long since the last hit.

Ryan came down from his bunk and stood a little too close like he usually did. "You okay, Alvarez?"

Miguel put his arms on Ryan's shoulder. "Don't I look all right?"

"You look like shit." Ryan knew drugs too well to be fooled. "What's your poison? From the look of it, none of those pills that Torquemada liked. Is the bastard still alive?"

Miguel shook his head. "Shanked two months into our move. Niggers didn't like a maricon taking over their business, but let's talk about important things. You got tits? I can make it worth your while," he whispered in Ryan's ear.

Ryan grabbed Miguel's wrists and pushed him away. "I'm not a faggot, Alvarez, but I'll see what I can find. I'm not gonna spend the night locked up with you while you're getting off that shit."

Miguel smiled. "You always know where to find what you need. I'll owe you one."

"And I'm gonna collect." Ryan walked around Miguel and left the pod. He needed to talk to Pancamo anyway. It was time to get Em City up and running.

Alone in their pod, Miguel went to his bunk. His entire body burned with need. He was a straight man and no one's bitch, but if Ryan could get him what he needed he'd do anything in return. He had done it in Attica plenty of times after Torquemada died. He should be ashamed of how low he'd gotten, but that required giving a fuck and Miguel was done caring. He needed his drugs to make everything well again.

* * *

Ryan was in splendid form. A year in Sing Sing had sharpened his skills and he had some brilliant fucking moves to get what he wanted. The problem was that after that year, Em City was almost disappointing and boringly easy. Too many had died. Too many were new and unsure of how things worked here. He and Pancamo bonded together over their love for business and screwing everyone else over. With the Italians running point on the drugs and Ryan bringing in the alcohol, they were settled.

Too bad he was fucking bored.

Ryan never did well when he was bored. He needed to be in constant movement, shifting from project to project. The quiet never led to anything good.

"What are you planning?" Beecher asked as stopped next to Ryan.

"Nothing." He sounded miserable to his own ears. 

"Things going too well?" Beecher asked with a grin. "You could always take down one of the Aryans."

Ryan snorted. "They're worse than cockroaches, but nah, they are dealing in gen pop and not here. They can fight it out with the Homeboys. They can kill each other there. No sense rocking the boat in Em City."

"Except you want to rock the boat," Beecher pointed out astutely. "No Aryans, no Homeboys, no El Norte-"

Ryan looked at Miguel who was sitting in front of the TV. He was clearly flying high, laughing too loudly, staring blankly. Not many other members of El Norte had made it back. Torquemada had gotten them hooked and made them too vulnerable. The few remaining seemed completely lost and as likely to turn on each other as they were to turn on others. No wonder McManus had trusted Ryan with Miguel.

"Fucking spics, they are so fucking smacked. Couldn't stop a band of grannies taking over their turf." It was pathetic as far as he was concerned.

"And you're doing your part to keep them like that." Beecher had a conspiratorial smile, but Ryan never knew when Beecher was being serious or crazy or pretending to be crazy. It's why he liked the bastard. "Alvarez owes you big."

"Yeah and he's gonna pay me with his trust fund," Ryan answered.

Beecher laughed. "I thought with his ass. You didn't seem opposed in Sing Sing."

Fucking bastard! Ryan knew that someone would bring it up and leave it to Beecher to mention what he'd done there. Different jail, different rules and there was no way that he would end up being someone's bitch, but sex had never been about sex there, but about power. The fucking left Ryan feeling as dirty as the people he'd fucked, but he closed his eyes and thought of Gloria and did what he had to do to stay on top. Rules were different in Em City. "Not interested in his ass."

"What are you interested in?" Beecher asked.

"Not sure yet." He'd find something. He always did.

* * *

Miguel sat in McManus' office, eyes staring blankly at the wall and a strange smile on his face. There were colors all around, pretty colors that made the world look so much better. Miguel never wanted to leave this pretty place.

"Are you listening?" McManus said.

Miguel nodded, even though he had no idea what the man was saying. He wasn't listening, because when McManus spoke, the world went back to a dreadful grey. He did hear the knock on the door, and knew that it was Ryan without turning. Even high, he could recognize the man's intensity. Or maybe it was the fact that he always smelled like pine and freedom despite the fact that he'd be here for life. Still, he turned the chair so he could look at both men without having to keep turning

"What do you want, O'Reily?"

Ryan looked between McManus and Miguel. "Came to see if he's all right?"

The suspicion in McManus' face put a damper in Miguel's colorful world, but that was expected. "And why do you care?"

"Because I'm a loving person." The shitfaced grin made Miguel smile. "And because he's totally high and won't know what the fuck you're telling him, which ain't my problem, except he'll come down in the middle of the night when he expects me to know what the fuck is going on."

"And you're asking me directly. That's new," McManus said.

Ryan smirked. "People tend to have unfortunate accident when I ask around and I'm not trying to get anyone shanked. I just want to sleep." He stepped closer to Miguel and snapped his fingers in front of Miguel's face. "Do you know what he told you about your case?"

Miguel nodded. "Me and you are gonna be together forever. Got life for shanking that nigger at Attica."

"You two-" McManus looked between the two of them and Ryan snorted. 

"Cell mates, McManus. Get your mind out of the gutter. 'Sides I ain't a faggot and you know it." Ryan crouched in front of Miguel and sighed. "You ready to go back to our cell."

"I want to watch TV." He liked all the colors on the screen, even if he couldn't remember half of what he watched.

"Fine, let's get you downstairs." Ryan got up and helped Miguel stand up. He turned to McManus. "He needs to clean up and he needs Gloria to do it."

"You're probably the one getting him high," McManus answered. "And you don't dictate what happens here."

"I ain't providing him shit and I'm not dic-fucking-tating anything. He doesn't clean up, he'll end up dead. No help from nobody. He'll fall off the fucking rails." Ryan shook his head, while Miguel did his best to ignore them. "Come on, Alvarez, let's go watch Miss Sally."

* * *

Ryan parked Miguel in front of the tv and went for Beecher. "You need to talk to Sister Pete."

"I talk to her daily," Beecher answered.

"That's not- I thought we don't play games with each other." That wasn't technically true. They played a different kind of game. Neither interested in hurting the other, but both wanting to keep things interesting, since they would both die inside these walls.

"I'll do it, but I want something in return." Beecher grabbed Ryan's shirt and pulled him into his pod. Everyone was watching, but no one was stupid enough to get in between crazy Beecher and slick O'Reily. People always ended up dead when they were involved.

"What do you want? Drugs, alcohol?" Those were the currencies of choice inside this place and Ryan could provide both.

Beecher rolled his eyes. "Neither. I'm not looking to lose control. Besides, I'm already crazy, don't you know?" He sat on his bunk and stared at Ryan. "I want a good reason why you're getting involved and why I should help you."

"Because it's the right thing to do," Ryan said with a grin.

"I said a good reason. If the right thing was a good reason, we wouldn't be spending our lives in a jail." Beecher waited, patiently, and Ryan knew that he would wait forever if he had to. The man was crazy.

Ryan shrugged. "Don't got a good reason. I don't give a shit about people, you know that, but Alvarez? He got life for killing one of the Homeboys at Attica. He'll be here with us, but he won't survive."

"Plenty of others didn't survive. Remember Schillinger? Chris? Want me to list all the people who died in here? Because it might take a while." Beecher kept staring at Ryan, daring him to answer without pushing. 

Ryan hated that the man was so good at it. It had to be his training as a lawyer. Bur Ryan wasn't one to go along. "What do you want me to tell you? I ain't got a reason."

"Then I don't have to help you," Beecher answered with a shrug, before getting up. "I think you have a reason, O'Reily, but you're just too afraid to admit it, but when you do, come back and I'll see what I can do."

Ryan grabbed his arm while Beecher tried to get out of the pod. "I don't fucking know why. We moved back here two months ago and he's been high as a kite, ready to do anything I want, practically begging me to make him my prag."

Beecher pulled his arm away but didn't leave. "And you haven't taken advantage of it in any way. You've even tried to find better drugs, nothing like the crack he likes to snort that makes him miserable when he comes down."

Observant bastard, but it was all true. "I don't know why and it's driving me crazy. I need him better so I can figure it out."

Beecher laughed. "It isn't going to help. You're obsessed, O'Reily. I've been on both sides of the equation and I know obsession when I see it. You? You were playing king at Sing Sing and all of a sudden the playground got a lot smaller. Gloria isn't something you want anymore and fucking him while he's desperate is too boring."

"I ain't a faggot," Ryan spat out.

"Neither am I, but I still know obsession well. The way I see it, we're here for life, but we're men and men can't live without sex and affection. Sure, you can get some kind of arrangement with a guard, but let's face it, it's unsatisfying at best, lethal at worst, it's always transitory, and never under our control. You like control too much, which doesn't leave you with many options. Usually you're obsessed with dealing and scheming, but lately everything is going so well that you have nothing to do and you're bored." He looked outside and where Miguel was laughing too loudly for whatever was on TV. "You found a new obsession."

Ryan didn't admit that Beecher had hit too close to home, but then Ryan was good at lying, even to himself when he needed to. However, he could admit that things had been very quiet lately. "If you know, or think you know what's going on, why did you ask me?" 

"Because people like Alvarez and you need to know what you're doing. Obsessions tend to kill people in Oz." Beecher didn't have to name names since they both knew them too well.

"I'm always careful, Beecher," Ryan answered.

"I hope so. For your sake." He sighed. "Fine, I'll talk to Sister Pete for him, but you know that no one can make him stay clean if he doesn't want to."

"Been there, done that, have the badge for most coke snorted. They'll get him clean; I'll help him stay that way." Not because he was obsessed. No, he was only trying to stop himself from wanting to help Miguel. That wasn't obsession at all.

* * *

Miguel was clean, or clean-ish as he met with Sister Pete. It wasn't by choice, but more a simple coincidence, and it was not helping with the session. He could barely listen to the blabbering, until he lost his patience. "You heard that I got life, yes?" he said, interrupting whatever she was saying.

"I did," she answered, taken aback by the sudden switch, or maybe by the fact that Miguel had spoken up for the first time.

"Let's say that I do what you say, get cleaned up, then what? Let's say I don't get shanked, what happens next? Meet a nice girl, fall in love, get married, have children? That ain't never going to happen. Or do you believe in McManus' bullshit that lifers can find a purpose in here? Only purpose is not to feel pain and the drugs- they do that."

"There is also a spiritual purpose, something inside us," Sister Pete said.

"Sure is, and St. Peter is gonna meet me at the gates of heaven and tell me that the dealing, the stealing, the killing- it's all forgiven," he said with a snort. "Sure, next you'll tell me that Santa is real." He got up. "Sister, I know you mean well, but at this point, I'm gonna die in Oz, the only question is when. Sooner might just be the good way to go. I gotta go to work."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Sister Pete said, not giving up.

"Sure, I'll bring coffee and we can do breakfast," he deadpanned as he stepped out.

Beecher peeked into the room. "It takes time."

"You heard then?" Sister Pete asked.

Beecher nodded. "I'll go see if I can talk to him." He went into the hallway and ran after Miguel. "She's only trying to help."

"They all are," Miguel answered. "Her help is as appreciated as O'Reily's."

"Yeah? What's he doing?" Beecher asked.

"Apparently the shit that's coming in is too addictive and he's cut me off. Told Pancamo to do the same. I have to go to the fucking Homeboys for tits." Miguel sighed, but he couldn't muster enough anger even at the lack of tits.

"He _is_ helping," Beecher hissed, "and he didn't cut you off. The shit that came in was laced with something, people died. People are still dying. Pancamo is waiting for a new shipment, while the Homeboys don't give a fuck about who dies in the meantime."

"Don't you think I know? I work in the damn infirmary." Miguel leaned closer. "I just don't give a fuck about who dies either, even if it's me. And now I gotta go."

* * *

"I'm gonna kill him," Ryan whispered when Beecher told him about their conversation. 

"Sort of goes against your plan of keeping him alive," Beecher said with his crazy grin.

"Fine, I'm going to keep him alive and then I'm gonna kill him." Ryan knew how stupid that sounded, but he was talking to Beecher, who was fluent in obsession.

"So what are you going to do?" Beecher asked.

"LOCKDOWN!"

The word rang through Oz before Ryan could answer, which was just as good since he had no idea. He walked to his pod and Miguel was already there. A few more seconds and all of the doors were locked. "You high?"

Miguel shook his head.

"You gonna need to get high?" Ryan asked.

"Depends on how long we're in here, hermano," Miguel answered with a grin.

"Wrong answer," Ryan growled as he stepped closer to the other man and pushed him against the wall. "You're not dying on me."

"Yeah? And how are you gonna stop it?" Miguel asked, chuckling.

Ryan gripped Miguel's shirt while he kissed him, hard and punishing against the wall, not caring if any of the guards came their way. When he pulled back, there was anger and determination on his face. "I'm gonna keep you alive."

"Your dick ain't that powerful," Miguel answered with a snort.

Ryan let go and stepped back. "Did I say anything about my dick? Or your ass? Me and you are gonna stay alive to spite all of those fuckers that want us dead and we're gonna help each other until we're old and wrinkly." 

"Why is that? Why do you want to help me? Why do I want to help you?" Miguel asked. 

"Apparently I need an obsession," Ryan murmured, because that was as good an answer as any at this point. "I don't know, Alvarez," he said louder. "If nothing else, because I'm tired of seeing people I like die. You, Beecher, I like to have you around. Hell, even Pancamo. He ain't bad for a goombah."

"He ain't bad when he's bringing in tits," Miguel answered.

The switch was immediate. Ryan might still not understand his obsession with Miguel, but he understood business. "It's not happening, not now. Querns is going to clean up the jail, and after all this crappy shit killing people, everything will be monitored. It'll be a good two weeks before we can bring in new product. You stay clean until then, and then I'll see if I can find something that won't kill you, yeah?"

"We'll see." Miguel got in his bunk and ignored Ryan for hours. The lights in Oz were dimmed and he was staring at the bottom of the top bunk, when he spoke up again. "You ever fuck a guy?"

Ryan thought about lying, but with Beecher around it might backfire. It took only a few moments for him to evaluate the pros and cons, before deciding to tell the truth. "Yeah, in Sing Sing, rules were different there. You either fucked them or they fucked you and I needed to show them who was in charge, you know?"

"I can't even remember how many fucked me." Miguel's voice was merely a whisper like a supplicant in a confessional. "When Torquemada died, I couldn't function. Most of El Norte was just as bad and I needed-"

Ryan jumped down and swatted Miguel's arm. "Move over." He lay on top of the blanket, rolled on his side so that he could look at the other man. "We've all done shit to survive."

"But I didn't, did I? I wasn't thinking about surviving. I was thinking about ending it all and the more people I fucked, the worse it got, because I was looking for something that we ain't never getting in here. I thought with Torquemada-" Miguel bit his lip, before sighing. "I ain't worth saving, O'Reily."

"None of us are worth saving," Ryan answered with a shrug. "So what were you looking for?"

"You're gonna think this is stupid."

Ryan snorted. "And I've never done anything stupid, right?" He was doing something stupid this very moment. Beecher had told him more than once, but it hadn't stopped him one bit. "So what is it?"

"Love." Miguel rolled to his side as well. "Not that love in the movie, all happiness and shit, but like, someone near you, someone that knows how fucked up you are and doesn't want to run away, someone that you can trust, you know?"

"Tall order, amigo. You can't trust anyone in here, but yeah I get it. Sort of like Beecher and Keller, before he went all psycho."

Miguel laughed. "Keller was always psycho, but yeah someone you can rely on. Told you it was stupid."

"No, it's… understandable. We all want that one person. It doesn't even have to be romantic. I had my brother for a while, and it'd be nice to have someone I could trust again. Maybe-" The rest of his words were cut off when Miguel pressed their lips together with a gentleness Ryan didn't think possible.

"I miss this too," Miguel admitted softly. "Being with someone without a reason."

Ryan tensed. "I- I can't. I'm not a faggot"

"You could fuck me. Plenty of straight guys fuck here. Or we could find a way to keep it a secret."

Ryan sighed. He might be obsessed, but he wasn't that far gone. "Nothing stays secret in Oz, and besides we're stuck here in full view." It was the best excuse he could find, but he could still see the hurt in Miguel's eyes. He pushed it away and tried to focus on what to do next. "I should go-"

Miguel grabbed his arms. "Stay. Touching someone helps when I'm in withdrawal."

"All right." Ryan told himself that it meant nothing. He wasn't gay and he wasn't interested. If somewhere in the middle of the night, he put an arm around Miguel, it was just a normal reaction to sharing a bed and if he sported wood in the morning, it was just biology. After all, Ryan was good at lying, even to himself.

* * *

They'd barely been out of lockdown for three days when Ryan got himself thrown in the hole. It wasn't even for business. They were in the cafeteria and Ryan was serving. Some dumbfuck Aryan had the balls to mention Sing Sing and Ryan screwing guys while there. Ryan, being the rational man he was, threw a pot of hot soup on the Aryan, causing third degree burns and possibly the loss of an eye. Miguel learned all of this while Gloria was taking care of the shithead that had pissed Ryan off while waiting for an ambulance to take him to a real hospital.

"Prick," he muttered, shaking his head as the guy was being taken out on a stretcher.

"Ryan isn't always as logical as he likes to pretend he is," Gloria answered.

"I meant this guy. Who's stupid enough to insult O'Reily in his face?" He shook his head again. "Now, he'll be stuck in the hole for a week at least."

Gloria frowned. "You're worried about Ryan."

"Nah, he'll be all right. It's just stupid, that's all." No, Miguel wasn't worried about Ryan. He was worried about himself. Ryan kept him sane, talking and touching him when the sudden urge came. With no Ryan and no drugs, he wasn't sure how he'd make it through the week.

It got worse and worse with each passing day. Four days into Ryan's week in isolation, Miguel was crawling up the walls. He'd heard the remarks about him being high, but he wasn't and not for lack of trying. Pancamo was still not providing and people were afraid to go against the Italians and Irish, at least in Oz.

He didn't have a chance to reach out elsewhere until one of the Homeboys from gen pop showed up in the infirmary. "I need tits," he whispered as he helped the man walk to the bed. Usually he wouldn't have given a fuck if the man was limping. If they were too stupid to stay healthy, he wasn't shedding any tears.

The man – Jason, Jasper, J something – looked around. "We ain't got nothing new."

"I'll take the risk," Miguel answered.

"Okay, this leg shouldn't take too long to fix, but I'll come back and see the Doc tomorrow, same time. Leg will be hurting tomorrow, meds didn't do the trick." He sat on the bed, still looking to make sure that the staff wasn't coming closer. "Or you could just use some of the meds here. If you could take some extra, we'd be grateful."

"No way to get that shit. Everything good is locked tight." Miguel saw Gloria come their way. "See you tomorrow."

Miguel had to wait two more days before Jamal (at least according to his chart) showed up again. He wasn't faking a hurt leg, but had a cut on his arm. He was also accompanied by a dozen or more Homeboys and Aryans and too many guards.

"Party time in gen pop," Miguel said as he prepared a kit to stitch the arm.

"Yeah, fun times." He glared to one of the Aryans. "Dickheads are messing with the mail room and our supplies, but I got you some of the old stuff."

Miguel looked around. "Can't pay with these many people around."

"Don't worry. I know where to find you and you can make sure they skip their meds today." He reached into his pocket and then shook Miguel's hand.

Miguel grinned while pocketing the little bag of white powder. "I'll make sure their pills go elsewhere." Possibly in his pocket, because one needed to think about rainy days. "Here's the Doc. See you around, hermano."

He spent the rest of the afternoon touching that little bag. It was so close, but out of his reach. Gloria would know if he got high in here. Instead he waited patiently until he was back in Em City. Even then, he wasn't rushing. He was savoring the moment when everything turned bright and colorful. He waited until they were in their pods for the night. With no Ryan to stop him, Miguel gave in.

The crack went through his system, head spinning, waiting for things to brighten up, but instead Miguel's world went black.

* * *

Ryan walked back to Em City, already planning about his next business deal. Ten days since the lockdown, which meant that soon Pancamo would be able to get new drugs in and they could expand into gen pop. They both had contacts there. His mental plans were forgotten when he saw Beecher waiting for him. "What happened?"

"Alvarez ODed last night. They took him to the infirmary. He's alive, but they don't know if he'll pull through," Beecher said.

"Fucking McManus. I told him-"

Beecher grabbed his arm before Ryan could go up to McManus' office. "Sister Pete sent me to get you. She wants to see you." He pulled Ryan away from Em City and McManus. "Getting yourself in the hole again won't help. Come on, Sister Pete is in the infirmary."

That finally got Ryan to stop fighting. "Fucking idiot. I told him to stay clean until we could get to safe stuff."

"He's an addict, O'Reily. It doesn't work like that." Beecher walked, hands in his pocket. "Sister Pete has been talking to a few people, see if they can get him treatment to detox, but it won't help if he won't stay clean, and not if you're providing."

"I cut him off and he ODed.," Ryan snapped

"Then you'll have to give him a reason to stay clean." 

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "You're crazier than people think if you're saying what I think you're saying. I ain't-"

"A faggot. Yes, I know. You've told us for years. I'm pretty sure that the walls know it by now." Beecher didn't raise his voice, instead he sounded bored. "You also care and for some inexplicable reason, Alvarez stays clean when you're around. I'm not saying to fuck him as soon as you see him, but there's a lot of room between putting it up his ass and not giving a shit. Especially in Em City."

Ryan frowned, staring at the other man. "Why are you doing this, Beecher? What's in it for you?"

"I guess, because I'm tired of seeing people I like die, too, and because we're friends. I don't have many of those, and maybe we're both too crazy to be friends with anyone else, but if I can help-" He shrugged. "Alvarez might end up being good for you as well."

"You are crazy, you know that?"

Beecher snorted as he opened the door of the infirmary. "Been told once or twice."

Ryan stepped inside and looked at Gloria, before searching for Alvarez in the beds. She nodded toward the private room and Ryan went inside, not surprised to see Sister Pete there. "How is he?"

"Alive," she said quietly. "It was touch and go last night, but he'll pull through." She smiled at him and Beecher. "I'm going back to my office. I told McManus that you'll spend the morning with me. Make sure to go back before lunch, and Ryan, don't make me regret this."

The tiny nun moved past Ryan and Beecher followed her, closing the door as they both left. Ryan looked around and almost sat on the chair, before carefully lying on the bed. He wasn't sure how long he was there, before Miguel moved.

"What happened?" Miguel murmured.

"You ODed, you fucking Spick," Ryan answered.

"Nice to see you, too, O'Reily," Miguel said with a smile. "I guess I'm still alive."

"Not for lack of trying. You can't keep doing this. One of these days, it'll stick and you won't come back from the dead."

"You sound worried." Miguel turned his head and stared at Ryan. "I didn't want to worry you; I'm sorry, but you weren't there and I was so alone, I felt-"

Ryan cut him off with a kiss, before pulling back. "You can't die on me, you understand? I can't have someone else I care about die on me."

Miguel grinned. "And you care about me."

"God knows why. You're unpredictable, you don't care about anything and you keep dying. You're like mildew, growing on me despite of everything." Ryan sighed, because this was insane. It was bad for business. He'd have to make sure that Miguel stayed clean, that any possible rumors didn't impact his standing and that quieting those rumors didn't put him in the hole or worse, gen pop.

"I don't want to die, not really." The words were so low that Ryan heard them because they were sharing a bed. "I just don't have a reason to live."

"Then do it for me, because I'm asking you to stay alive," Ryan said. "I can't promise you shit, not that wife and children you like, or the white picket-fence. We ain't never going to get out of here, but I can promise you that we'll survive, that we'll stay on top, and that you can trust me. I won't run away if you start using again, but I'll kick your ass until you get cleaned up again."

Miguel took a deep breath. "That sounds… Do you know what's the worst part of being here for life? You stop believing that good things can happen."

"Don't know about good things. Fuck, I don't even know about this," Ryan admitted, "but I know that you don't stop believing. You gotta keep going, keep playing the game and rolling the dice."

"What about this- us?" Miguel asked. "Are you gonna freak out and shank me? Because if you are, find some way that doesn't hurt. I'm tired of being in pain."

"I- I don't know, Alvarez. We kiss and I think that it's fine, and then someone says something and- I hated fucking those guys in Sing Sing."

"We don't have to, you know? Sex is-" He shrugged. "Need a friend more than anything."

He could work with this. After all Beecher was right; they didn't have to start fucking, and mutual handjobs and blowjobs weren't sex. Even a president had said so. He'd just have to find what he was comfortable with. Ryan grinned. "We'll see what happens. We'll be here for life and we can't stop believing."


End file.
